Picasso Bunyan

A poet friend goes to the
piney north woods only after
stopping by the local
hardware store where he
picks up paint-chip cards.

Holding them up to
whatever thing of nature
he is writing about,he then
aspires to be Crayola literate
in his effortless verse.

Lying in those very same
north woods, gazing at a glassy
sky full of stars framed by
towering jack pines and aspens,
matted with moonlight, I need no
cardboard strips,knowing full well
‘damn fabulous, spectacular blue’
when I see it.

A shade, by the way,
Hardware Hank doesn’t even carry.

Carnivale

It was the day the
circus came to town
we went and you made
a small joke about the
contorting monkeys
wishing I was as limber,
simianly creative.
My chuckling retort
comparing you –
favorably, I thought –
to the barking seal
was a ball dropped.

I could see your point
about dogs jumping
through hoops,
while you failed to
appreciate my
rhetorical crack about
lionesses eating their young.

We remained silent through
the acrobats and the guy
shot from the cannon; laughed
uncomfortably at the
unicycle riding jugglers.

Contrary to your rationale
my lifes’ messes are not
elephantine in size while
I meant nothing personal
noticing the zebra’s stripes
didn’t make it seem thinner.

It was the day the
circus came to town
and we never, ever,
called each other clown.